


The Two Scope Tango [Blu Sniper/Red Fem Sniper]

by WheatleyBetterBeInPortal3



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Female Characters, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Forbidden, Heterosexual Sex, Humor, Oral Sex, Quickies, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Smut, Sneaking Around, Strong Female Characters, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25215631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WheatleyBetterBeInPortal3/pseuds/WheatleyBetterBeInPortal3
Summary: Medic plays matchmaker (a little too aggressively) and facilitates a forbidden battlefield tryst between two formidable adversaries. Humor, romance, smut, and Medic being...Medic.“Ohhh Fraulein!” an unmistakable voice sang triumphantly down the hall, stopping her in her tracks. “I have somezink fur yooou!”“Tell me you didn’t do what I think you did...Tell me there isn’t a man drugged and hog-tied in there.”The medic’s eyes flicked away quickly in thought then returned to her. “Vell, I did. And zhere is.”
Relationships: Sniper/Sniper (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 28





	1. A Chat With The Rabbit

“Are you seriously,” the female sniper pinned the medic with a glare, “about to diagnose me with _hysteria?_ ” The doctor’s eyes widened, caught off guard by her sudden sharpness. “Are you lookin’ to pass off a quickie as medical treatment? How stupid do you think I--”

“ _I vas not insinuating it should be vith me!_ ” The doctor’s face flushed at the idea, The sniper found herself flushing to match him, with the embarrassment at assuming as much. She hated how clinically a doctor could just ask about a person’s sexual activity, or lack there of, as casually as asking about a change in diet or sleep habits. Doctor or not, it was still a dodgy topic for any man to prod her about.

Medic quickly regained his composure with a readjustment of his glasses, “I could, however, assist in procuring you, vell, _an opportunity_.” he looked at her with something condescending, approaching pity, in his eyes, “Perhaps ve are too shy to approach our colleagues vith such a proposal, hmm?”

She scoffed at this. Like she needed his help to get laid. She re-assured herself her lack of ‘activity’ was down to her lack of interest in any of her teammates in that regard.

“It ain’t that important doc,” she deflected.

“Vhat did you come in here for?” he asked rhetorically. “You are out of balance, out of sorts, not sleeping right, not eating right, not shooting right, vound tight like a spring.” He paced closer as he listed the symptoms she had come to him with.

“I thought you’d just give me a bottle of Valium or something.”

“Nonsense! You zhink you vould have your head on straight enough for battle with _zhat_ in your veins?” He tutted and brushed the idea aside with a dismissive wave.

“Now,” began the doctor as if she had already agree, “You have a target rich environment, so to speak. Certainly you have noticed a few of the _fit specimens_ who share zhe field vith you each day, hmm?” He cocked an eyebrow at her in a teasing manner.

She laughed and shook her head. Perhaps it was so simple to him. Maybe it was a male thing. Maybe it was a psychopathic doctor thing.

“Vhat about...” He began pacing a circle around her as he guessed. “Spy?”

“You playing match maker now?” She shook her head and tightened her folded arms, shrinking shyly. Medic grinned, amused by her timidness on the subject. The sniper sensed the medic was not about to drop the subject. She deflected his suggestion at last with a sigh, “Pretty sure everyone knows he’s tied up with that kid’s, mum.”

“Hmm...Demo?”

“Not terribly attracted to drunken, dishevelled messes, no”

“Ooh, _harsh_.” He smirked, enjoying her sassy defensiveness. “Vhat about Scout?”

“Pshh, No! I mean...the kid’s got a good face but, he’s a bloody larrikin. And what is he 19? 20? He’s a kid y’know? Seems like he’d be...a bit...inexperienced.” She wondered at why she was giving him so much insight into her inner logic on all this anyway. Medic seemed to have a talent for dragging things out of people, she had notice. But decided for the moment to let herself slip. Casually sharing these, normally stifled thoughts, on this forbidden subject of, ‘reasons to shag or not to shag each of my co-workers’, was having a therapeutic effect.

“Ah, but you could be his first! _Wouldn’t_ _z_ _hat be exciting?_ ” The doctor said brightly.

“What?! I didn’t think he was _that_ inexperienced. I mean, I know the others tease him, but I thought that were just boys bein’ boys.”

“Perhaps zhe soldier? He has a decent physique, no?”

“Never. He’s insane.”

“Hmm,” He circled closer, “Engineer zhen? He has a good head on his shoulders.”

“Nothin’ wrong with Engie.” She shrugged, “...but nah, never thought of him that way.”

“Hmff. _W_ _omen_. So very picky.” Medic tutted.

“Hey! If it were a priority, I’d sort it, mate!” She said, growing offended. “Maybe I don’t see my workplace as a meat market. It’s about _professionalism_.”

“Sure,” said Medic, clearly not agreeing. He ceased his pacing and leaned with his back against the exam table, arms folded, eyes boring into the floor, keen to crack this riddle. “I do vhant to help you.” To her surprise, something genuine in his tone gave her the sense that he actually did. “Zhere must be _somevone_...”

Her mind did indeed go to someone. Someone she had been comparing each option he threw at her to. She had been avoiding his gaze, but now she returned to it, finding his sharp eyes studying her. He read it all on her face. His face curled into a devious, knowing grin. “Oh, ho! Zhere _is_ someone.”

She squirmed under his accusation. “Fine. Sure. But you could never get him.”

“My dear,” He approached with a superior strut and tilted his head to peer at her over his glasses. “I can talk a man into replacing his heart with a baboon’s. You think I vould have _any_ trouble talking a man into _fucking a_ _v_ _oman_?”

She blurted out a laugh at hearing so crass a word as _‘fucking’_ out of this otherwise proper and dignified, older gentleman. “You could never get him.” She insisted, shaking her head at the proud doctor’s face. He squinted, un-phased by her laughter.

“Try me.”

She sighed, casting one last calculation over the risk of exposing her interest in this person. She cleared her throat and met his eye contact with seriousness.

“The sniper.” She dropped her voice to a whisper before clarifying, “ _t_ _heir_ sniper.”

The medic’s eyes widened a moment, but he held his poker face otherwise. He had so boldly bragged his ability to deliver, he was not about to back down now, even with this surprising new angle to the challenge. “Hmm,” He grinned, back into a mode of teasing her about it. “Interesting.”

“Impossible.” She corrected him.

Medic chuckled. He turned to wander into the depth of his lab as he spoke over his shoulder to her. “Zhey said it vas impossible to bring back zhe dead. Yet here you stand.” She had no response for this.

“I believe we are done here, miss. I have some verk to do now. Good day.” He dismissed her as he arrived at his syringe gun which lay open for maintenance on a workbench. The sniper awkwardly stood a moment, surprised at the abrupt end of the conversation, then found her way out.

The medic rifled through his collection of poisons, arriving on the ingredients he had been seeking. Something a little different to load the syringe gun with.

* * *

“Ohhh _Fraulein!_ ” an unmistakeable voice sang triumphantly down the hall at the sniper the following night, stopping her in her tracks. “I have somezink fur _yooou_!” She turned slowly, wary of what might have the doctor in such high spirits. “Come vith me!” He swept her along with him in the direction of the infirmary with a jovial spring in his steps.

“ _Medic_ _._..?” She said in a tone that was more of a warning than a question. “Doc!” She stopped short of the infirmary doors and held him firmly by the arm. “Tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.” Medic had his hand on the door, and now looked back at her, puzzled by her hesitation. She looked back down the hall for witnesses. “Tell me,” She dropped to a threatening whisper, “you didn’t _bring the enemy here_. Tell me there isn’t a man drugged and hog-tied in there!” The medic’s eyes flicked away quickly in thought then returned to her.

“Vell, I did. And zhere is.”

The sniper threw her hands up and whirled away from him in disbelief, then dragged them down her face as she returned to address the situation.

“Ok, _ok, ok, what--?_ ” she dropped her sentence for an exasperated grumble, checking the hall for witnesses again. “What exactly is the plan here? I go in there and just... _what?_ What then?! He wakes up, he’s been drugged and dragged here, ‘Oh, hello, I kidnapped you for a quickie, _wouldja mind?_ ’ He’ll think I’m a _psychopath!_ And, he’ll try to kill me, _and_ he’ll probably escape, _and_ we’ll be fired for whatever trouble he causes on the way out.”

She hushed her voice again, which had been rising with her anxiety, “This can’t happen. Just set him free in the woods like a rabbit and let him scamper off.”

Medic laughed at her suggestion. “You put too little faith in me, my dear. Do you think I would not think this through?” Her sceptical glare answered his question. “Vhy don’t ve step inside, ja? A little privacy for zhis conversation, hm? And zhen, if you are still too shy, I vill ‘let ze rabbit scamper off’, as you said.”

He pulled the door open a few inches, but the sniper made no move to enter at first. She did not want to be party to any of this. But, she did want to continue this conversation behind a closed door. After an indignant huff, she responded. “Fine.” She allowed his hand at her back to escort her through the threshold.

* * *

He was drugged. So heavily drugged in fact, he was not even restrained, but sat, slumped, leaning heavily on his hands, planted for balance, wavering on the exam table. He stared zombie-like at the floor. His hat lay upside-down, left where his head had apparently spent some time before he had risen to his current seated position. His usual shades had been lost at some point on his journey here.

“No. No, no, _no_ ,” said the female sniper, practically hiding behind the medic. “Medic, _what is wrong with you_?” She hushed her voice so even the man in the room with them would not hear. “I can’t shag him while he's drugged like this, _are you mental_?!”

“I did not expect you too,” replied Medic in a far less cautious volume. “I doubt he vould be able to... _perform_ anyvay, in such a state.” He approached the man on the table, whose focus wandered up to Medic, then away as if he had been no more than another fixture of the room. “I have been meaning to test zomesink, and your request for some time vith zhe enemy, has given me a chance to kill two birds vith one stone.”

“I don’t recall requesting it, actually,” she put in, now braving a few steps closer to this odd scene. The man’s eyes wandered her direction without achieving eye contact. He swayed dangerously, then sloppily corrected, blinking to look back at the floor again. He may have been sitting, with his eyes open, but he was not really awake. “What did you ‘test’ on him?” She asked.

“Somezink to make zhe enemy less aggressive. So passive in fact,” the doctor continued, lighting up with the opportunity to explain his concoction, “zhey may just lay down zher guns and wander off zhe field. Or more likely, wander into our sentries.” He rubbed his hands together excitedly, leaning in for a closer look at his specimen. “Now, I did also have to sedate him razher heavily to get him here. Quite zhe feisty ‘rabbit’ he vas. But soon he vill be lucid enough zhat zhe two of you can, vell, _get to know each other._ ”

“Again, Doc,” She lowered her voice, not that the nearly-blacked-out man on the table would likely comprehend a word, “I can’t shag a man who’s...shit-faced as this.”

“No. But you can talk to him. I did say, ‘get to know each other.’ You are the vone talking about ‘ _shagging_ ’.” He articulated her slang for the act awkwardly.

“Talk to him?”

“Ja,” Medic shrugged. “Generally, a necessary precursor to _‘_ shagging,’ in my experience.”

For the first time since he began dragging her down the road to this moment, she appreciated his thinking on it. How else would she have ever had a safe opportunity to approach one of the enemy for a dialogue like this. She sighed, watching him.

“How long until he’s talk-able? And how long until he’s dangerous again?”

“Vell, we will know the first vone when he starts talking. And, I have a strong feeling zhe second vone vill not happen.”

“You mean, it’s permanent?”

The doctor chuckled, “No. But I can surmise he vill be less keen to kill you after he’s spent some... _quality time_ with you.”

“I’m not gonna shag him, doc.”

“You are assuming my meaning again.”

“ _Whosenotg_ _o_ _nnashag_ _h_ _im_?” Slurred a new participant to the conversation, snapping the attention of the medic and female sniper to him.

Medic beamed over at her in excitement. He patted the sobering man on the shoulder as he passed by. The male sniper looked at where Medic had contacted him few seconds too late. Medic strode past the rapidly tensing female Sniper.

“I..I don’t know what to say to him,” she stammered, watching in horror as the male sniper’s face began emoting his confusion at regaining consciousness in this setting.

“I figured you might need some liqvuid courage,” said the medic, who had wandered somewhere behind her. “Vhich is just as vell, because I could use more test subjects.” Understanding his implication immediately, She turned to protest, but medic’s hand was already on her bicep, and his needle already in her arm.

“You can’t just--!” She reached for the hand injecting her but the job was already done, and the nasty little pricking implement yanked safely away. “—inject people with things, you...” Her sentence trailed off as she could not think of an adequate insult...and suddenly, finishing that thought did not seem so important.

“I find zhat people vorry too much about injections if you varn zhem.” Medic mused as he wandered off to discard the spent syringe. She stayed right where he had left her, her hand still hovering where she had failed to stop him.

“Now,” said the medic calmly, guiding her toward the exam table with a hand at her back. “Vhy don’t you hop up zhere and meet your new freund, hmm?” Finding nothing wrong with the idea, she complied.

She approached, taking his hat from where she intended to sit, then placed it on his head...it just seemed like the right place to put it. Medic chuckled at her from somewhere, but she did not mind as she climbed up and sat cross-legged like a child beside this new curiosity.

Here he was. A face she had only seen at many yards before, through a scope, for the fleeting seconds one could dare looking before taking a shot, to avoid being taken herself. His face bore a long thin scar she had not noticed before, drawn diagonally from his nose to the tip of one ear. His cheek had taken the brunt of whatever had done it.

Her presence drew his focus. The sedative had released him, but the substance medic was testing on them both still had a powerful hold. He perceived a woman there, but concepts like ‘enemy’ were yet unplugged in his consciousness.

“Goodday.” he said politely with a small dip of his head, seemingly out of reflex at meeting a stranger.

“Goodday.” She chimed back in a timid voice, equally out of habit. Medic laughed at their adorably innocent exchange from his small kitchenette where he was busy brewing himself some tea before settling in to watch the little drama play out.

The enemy sniper’s eyes wandered slowly to her crimson shirt, then blinked with a growing understanding. “I’m in the wrong base,” he stated to himself, his tone entirely lacking the concern that revelation should merit.

“Yeah, you are.” She answered just as simply.

“Are you gonna kill me?” He asked, sounding more curious than worried.

“Nah. The medic’s testing something on us.”

“The medic?” said the man, gazing across the sinister medical implements of his surroundings. Then back to her. He leaned closer and lowered his voice as if to share a secret, “If your medic’s as loony as ours, he’s probably plannin’ to sew us together.” The female sniper laughed. The male sniper’s face lifted into a goofy drunken smile, enjoying her laughter. His hat was not quite set right, adding further charm to his disheveledness.

“No,” she said, coming down from her laugh. “He thinks I need a shag.” She blurted into a new laugh. In her uninhibited state, she had not for a moment assessed the personal nature of the statement before sharing. Now that it was out, the absurdity of it tickled her, and him as well it seemed. He joined her in her laugh.

“Is that why I’m here?” He asked between chuckles.

“It’s a very bad idea isn’t it?” She squeaked breathlessly.

The man’s laughter intensified, doubling him so he nearly rolled off the exam table. He managed to articulate through his fit, “bloody hell, _your team’s_ _more_ _mental_ _than_ _mine!_ ” The female sniper giggled, nodding in agreement, then found herself possessed by the contagious sound of his joy. The two shook with unbridled laughter, rocking so much that they bumped into each other, which only spurred them on.

“Hmm, vas not expecting _zhis_ ,” said an amused medic. He sat cozily in a chair nearby with his tea, scribbling on a clipboard.

“Oi!” said the recovering enemy sniper to the medic he had just now noticed. “Whatcha up to nurse?”

“Recording symptoms.” Answered the medic with a grin.

“Yeah, you would, wouldn’t you?” The male sniper’s voice was bold, like he was ribbing an old friend. “Weird.” He cast a glance to her, shaking his head with a grin. “These doctors are weird. Not even doctors, really. Probably. Are ya?” The medic held his smirk but squinted with a hint of annoyance at the personal nature of the jab. “What’s all this then anyway, doc? Draggin’ me in here? Tellin’ her she needs a shag?” He pointed sloppily at her, nearly poking her.

“Vhy, it is my conservation program.” quipped the doctor as he straightened his glasses and lifted his tea to his lips. “Snipers are endangered you know.”

“He’s good.” said the male sniper, nudging the female sniper who started giggling again, unsure of if the conversation or the drug were more responsible at this point. “Still weird. But good.”

“So.” The male sniper said, turning his attention fully to his new female acquaintance. “The doctor says you need ‘a shag’,” he smirked, almost laughing again. “Do you need a shag, love?”

“Not here.” she said, finally recovering from her giggles, “not now.” She said glancing at the medic. The substance may have dissipated her anxiety entirely, but she was still well aware that commencing such activities, on an exam table, in front of a doctor, with a doped up, delusional partner, was not an enticing proposition to her. “Not like this.”

“I figured not. I should be trying to leave anyway...no offence to you, miss.” He looked around the room. His statement indicated the gravity of his situation was somewhere in his awareness, yet he made no move to actually leave.

“The doc says you probably can’t _perform_ like this anyhow.” She nudged him teasingly.

“Oi! Oi!” The male sniper squinted at the medic and planted a fist on his hip, though he sounded more like he was joking with the man again, than actually offended. “Presumptuous!” The medic raised an eyebrow in response. The sniper’s gaze fell to his own anatomy. He blinked in thought. “Probably right though.”

The lady sniper snickered immaturely at his admission. He looked dopily back at her, satisfied that he had entertained her again. They shared a moment of curious eye contact, undisturbed by the usual social awareness that would have made them averting such a prolonged stare. As she took him in, she remembered how rare and valuable this opportunity really was. She needed to say something.

“We should...do something...some other time.”

“Do something?” he asked.

“When you’re not so....”

“Off meh’ tits?” he finished for her.

“Yeah.” She smiled, amused by his phrasing.

“You mean meet again?” He searched her with newly interested eyes, then turned a sidelong glance at their audience. “Probably shouldn’t discuss _that_ in front of... _witnesses_.”

“A little late,” said the medic, entertained by their slow-witted-ness. “But your little secret, battlefield romance vould be of no concern to me. My job is only to heal.” He waved a dismissing hand as he sipped from his tea. This ‘war’ was little more to him than an excuse to fund and pursue his own experiments. The politics and outcome of it held no weight to him. “If you two have trouble blasting each ozher’s heads off after zhis, zhe administrator vill be your vorry, not me.”

“Yeah.” The male sniper said, returning to his new lady friend, seeming satisfied with the medic’s declaration of disinterest. “Something. Some other time. Such as...”

“Shag?” She suggested bluntly.

“If you like.” He grinned, responding as casually as if she’d suggested going for coffee. “We could do other things too though...that I’ll...think of...later....” He seemed to loose his fragile concentration as his eyes wandered over her gracelessly. “A shag would be good though.”

The female sniper smiled at how successfully this bizare solicitation was going, considering she was so out of her wits.

“You know something?” The male sniper went on. “I’m usually shite at this. It’s rather easy talkin’ to you, miss.”

“That’s the drugs.” She explained.

“Ah. That’d be it then.”

Suddenly the man tensed as a syringe lodged in his arm. The female sniper reeled back at the surprise. “Alright,” the medic cut in, who seemed to appear from nowhere by the female sniper’s perception, with the syringe gun in one hand, glancing at the watch in his other. Her new friend began to slump blearily, only to be redirected by the medic to lay on his side, forcing her to hop off the table to make room. “Time for zhe rabbit to scamper off.”

The female sniper felt her mood drop precipitously to an empty low with the abrupt end of the promising conversation. “But--” she protested.

“Like you said my dear, vonce sober, he vould try to escape, and zhats where zhe trouble for us vould start.” He yanked the empty dart free of the man’s body and tossed it back onto the work bench. “Now, go write him a nice note to make your arrangements. It’s best if I don’t know zhe details.”

She had to give him credit. Medic had actually thought this through.


	2. The Two Scope Tango

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blu (male) Sniper is rightfully damn suspicious about all this. Their rivalry on the battle field gets a little out of hand, and then they fuck. Enjoy :)

Coordinates and a time, folded in his shirt pocket. The paper was all the enemy had left him as evidence their meeting had not just been a dream. They could have tortured information out of him, or held him as leverage, (not that his detached employers would likely pay a dime to retrieve him.) But here he sat, out one pair of aviators, but otherwise unscathed.

 _What_ _the hell_ _could they be trying to accomplish?_ He stared at the map on his table, having worked out the location from the cryptic collection of numbers, his mind churning, trying to piece together their strategy. The time of the supposed meeting would be during an agreed upon ceasefire, in the middle of the night. No re-spawn to save him.

“Get stuffed.” He mumbled. No way in hell would he consider arriving at a time and place the enemy directed. What kind of idiot did they take him for? He frustratedly rubbed at his forehead with agitated finger tips, his morning cigarette pinched between his knuckles, scowling as he puzzled on...But then again, why would they have let him go, only to capture him again? They could have done whatever they were planning the first time they had him.  
  
And then there was _her_. He knew that whatever drug they had loaded him with probably cast a halo effect over her, as she had giggled and chatted with him. And he knew the obvious, intelligent thing to do would be to drop the idea of appearing at _that time_ and _that place_ entirely. But, an attractive woman had expressed a strong interest in him, and a dumb part of him was having trouble letting that go. A dumb part of him that needed to shut up.

They were trying to use her to get under his skin, make it harder for him to face them in battle, give him a soft spot. Maybe she was supposed to work information out of him after they had established some sort of relationship. Those were the only logical reasons he could think of to explain the psychological warfare they had attempted on him. He sucked down the rest of his cigarette and crushed it in the sink. Time to leave all this in the dream it came from and get on with his day.

 _Well_ , he thought as he prepared his weapon for the day’s work, _h_ _e would prove to them their little plan had_ _failed_ _._ Today, there would be only one target on the field for him.

* * *

He found his elusive quarry, strategically tucked back through a doorway, only a barrel betraying her location, nearly unexposed to him from this angle. Nearly. For a split second, her hand passed into view, a scarce few inches past the door frame.

He saw his opportunity, and he took it. The opening salvo to a counter-sniping tango.

A shot to the hand did not kill her, of course, but it certainly set her mood and priorities for the day. She cursed and screamed for the medic. As his beam worked its miracles, and the pain no longer occupied the majority of her thoughts, her blood began to boil. _What kind of fuckwit blows a mark’s hand off instead of their head? A fuckwit who was about to learn some fucking manners._ Seconds later, she was out, hunting for a certain fuckwit.

As honour-less as she felt it was, she made a point of returning the limb-shot favour, the moment she had found him. She even had a clear shot of his head, but decided his hand would be an unmistakable _message_. She let him reel back from the injury and suffer a few miserable seconds before she followed up with a clean head shot. “Now, that’s how you do it, mate,” she smirked as she expelled the spent casing.

“Playin’ dirty today are we?” he growled, shaking off the sizzling aftershocks of the re-spawn. He stormed out, now more focused on proving something to _her_ than the enemy as a whole.

The female sniper’s focus suffered, torn between the movements of battle, and an ongoing assessment of her rival’s behavior. A spy found her distracted and dispatched her with embarrassing ease. She berated herself, charging again through the gate of the re-spawn, only to immediately find herself within it again. She took in her surroundings, confused, then made for the exit again. This time she saw him for a flash of an instant before he dropped her again.

“CAMPING?!” She roared. “That _bloody coward!_ ”

She took cover at the side of the exit, then flashed a hint of her hat around the corner in her hand. He fired at the false target and she sprinted like a gazelle through the gate and into cover through the precious second it took him to reload.

Knowing that he had seen her take off in this direction, she abruptly switched paths the moment cover allowed it, to approach him from the opposite side. She kept low, a shadow against every possible barrier as she wove a path to flank him.

She knew that he would not have stayed where she had seen him last. She flung herself along side a window frame, panting to recover from her sprint, and chanced a peek out to check his position. Her deception had worked, or at least, he was twitching this way, then that, trying to cover both directions, not sure of her plans. He began to stalk off down a path that would soon have him out of sight behind a building.

Her cross-hair hovered in wait, leveled momentarily on a target she would never stoop so low as to intentionally hit: his manhood. Camping was a childish tactic, sure, but _that_ punishment would be disproportionate. She smiled, feeling wicked at the idea, but chose his knee instead. _Also wicked_ , she thought, as she watched him crumple with a pain drenched cry, _but_ _you’d thank me, mate, if you knew what I could'a done._

She concluded with another head shot to prove the knee hit was not due to poor aim. And, because she really did not enjoy watching the man suffer long. Job done. Point made.

Until, of course, he made it back.

She was being careful now, and proved much harder to find. She was squatted behind a long low concrete barrier, peering around a corner, scanning for him. A stab of adrenaline had him duck instinctively as her barrel suddenly snapped to his position. She did not take the shot. But he knew the next time he exposed himself, she would have him.

He dashed away, crouched low, using a similar concrete barrier as cover, and found a new position to surprise her from. From here he only saw her crouched knee, poking out, unguarded. He preferred the professional courtesy of a good head-shot to all these wing shots any day. But, she was too good at keeping her head hidden, and other parts of herself less so. And a knee for a knee seemed _bloody perfect._

Cruel as it was, he enjoyed her angrily cursing him for all the canyon to hear. Not her pain, but her frustration with him was a welcome treat after the excruciating destruction of his own kneecap mere minutes ago. The RED medic whirled and rushed to assist her. “Nah, don’t bother.” he said quietly to the medic who would never hear him as he blew the doctor’s head off, “you’ll just make it take longer.” He reloaded and stepped boldly into the open to get a clear angle on her head, knowing she was too distracted with pain to stop him now, and put her out of her misery, seconds later.

The battle and the plight of her team entirely disregarded, she found him again, and this time, she had no compunctions about what part of a man’s anatomy constituted an ethical target. In fact, she thought as she squeezed the trigger with an evil grin. _This should bloody well end this little chess match._ She did not have an equivalent appendage for him to take.

Moments after the fateful rifle report, she did feel a twinge of guilt. He threw quite a miserable fuss over it. She did not make him wait long for the merciful second strike of the double tap.

He re materialized and sank to the floor of the re-spawn, his body still tensed to protect himself and his nerves unraveling, not fully ready to believe the trauma was over. He shakily worked his way back to his feet, then froze, transfixed at the sight of the woman he so ferociously wanted to strangle, standing there, in the re-spawn with him. He registered a moment later the only logical explanation.

“Enjoying zhe view?,” teased the spy with an exaggeratedly sassy flip of his disguise’s hair. The sniper blinked and shook off his daze. Spy snickered at his embarrassed colleague, snapped his kit case closed, and sauntered out toward the field.

The sniper’s shock and humiliation was rapidly replaced with a hot new depth of rage. This little game, was well and truly, bloody, _over_.

* * *

He caught a flash of her on the enemy's end of the field, disappearing into the tunnels that wove the field. He charged into the darkness of the tunnels on their own side to intercept her at an assumed destination, leaving his long range weapon on his back. No more love taps from a distance, the hooked blade was out and thirsty for a nice, intimate defilement.

She saw his silhouette waiting for her in the dim passage a second too late and stumbled to redirect herself at a crossroads. But he was far too close, she would have to face him off here. She drew her SMG and whirled nearly soon enough to meet him, but his blade rang an ear-splitting clank against her gun’s barrel. The impact dislodged it from her grip as he whacked it to the floor. He swung the point of the kukari back to stop mere centimetres from her eye and nose. Her hand hovered, poised to fetch her own blade, but she froze, knowing he would have her eye out long before she could counter. Their eyes cast each other with viscous threats, like two snarling hounds about to snap.

Suddenly her palm struck at seemingly impossible speed against the flat of his blade, sending it away. With the same hand, she followed with a sharp reversal to strike his face with the back of her fist. Not enough to do any real damage, but hopefully enough of a distraction. She lurched for her SMG in the dirt. He kicked her off balance to the ground, then shuffled forward to send her SMG further down the tunnel with his boot.

She rolled to face him. He had switched to his own SMG, which was now trained on her gut instead of her face, threatening that he was not about to do her the kindness of a quick dispatch. He flicked his lighter alight to see her more clearly on the dark floor of the tunnel.

“I’ve had enough of your games today, _you crazy c_ _unt_!”

“Wha-?! _You_ started this with that cheap shot, _you fuckwit_!” She snapped the hand he had taken in an aggressive gesture for emphasis.

He stepped closer, towering over her. “Ain’t no such thing as a cheap shot, love! A shot’s a shot!”

“Spoken like a man who takes _cheap shots!_ ” she snapped back, nearly rising to face him. She retreated slightly as he pointed SMG more aggressively, threatening her back down.

“Right! You wanna talk about legitimate tactics?!” He roared, “What the bloody hell is your team on about with these bloody mind games, now?! _Y_ _ou_ _lot_ tossed out the rules when you dragged me in to mess with my head!”

“My team don’t even know about that!”

“Oh, _right_ , so it’s your personal project to get laid then?” He gestured sarcastically with the gun before snapping it back to her, “ _Must be pretty desperate!_ ”

She rose to her feet despite the threat of his weapon, “I ain’t desperate!” she snarled, “I have no trouble at all mate! In fact, _you_ seemed pretty keen on me. Didn’t ya!? _Eh?!_ ”

A silence followed. His nostrils flared with a frustrated huff of feelings on that subject he could not yet put into words. He was not ready to forgive her for the very _literal,_ low blow she had dealt him today. But the dumb part of him he had told to shut up this morning was back at it again.

This woman, now staring him down with devastating intensity, had, only one night prior, declared an enthusiastic intent to jump his bones. She had left him a _bloody invitation_ to the event. _And god, if that didn’t sound like just the thing to turn this horrible day around._ His resolve to thwart the enemy’s probable scheme to give him a soft spot for her, was rapidly being drown out by a much louder, more deeply seeded drive. One that was indifferent toward the complexities of wars and espionage:

He wanted to make a stupid mistake with this frustratingly formidable adversary. Right now.

The battle they had all but forgotten raged on above ground, and for the moment, far afield. And here they stood. In the dark. Alone.

He set his jaw, closed his eyes and shook his head, already berating himself for his foolishness, then suddenly snapped his lighter’s flame out and collapsed the distance between them.

He surrounded her, with his SMG still in his hand, aimed at the ceiling behind her back. She flinched in surprise at the sudden move, but, quickly understood what was happening as his nose hovered a tense centimetre from hers. A wordless question she answered by meeting him with a ravenous kiss, sinking them irretrievably into temptation together. She grasped his shirt, pulling him a few stumbling steps deeper into the darkness, away from the broader exposure of the tunnel crossroads, as their teeth grabbed at each other’s lips.

Between moments of their faces being smashed together, he bemoaned something about her being a ‘crazy cunt’ again, cursing her and himself for the idiocy of what they were doing.

“ _Don’t call me a c_ _unt_ _,_ _f_ _uckwit_!” She hissed and bit his ear sharply. He grasped her hair, to tear her away from the cartilage she was threatening to draw blood from.

He jerked her blade free of her holster, causing her a moment of panic, and chucked it away. She brought her fist down like a hammer on his shoulder for frightening her, then returned to attacking his mouth with her own, as her nails clawed through his hair, knocking his hat off, and raking down his neck.

He knew her rifle would have been impossible to maneuver from her back to a use-able position with any stealth while they were entangled, so with her as good as disarmed, he let his SMG clatter to the floor to free his hands.

They grasped and grappled in the dark, fighting for control as they kissed and nipped. Still flinching away at suspected tricks. Untrusting, but too magnetically drawn to each other’s bodies to stop or leave.

Their adrenaline mixed with their surging hormones to yield a volatile cocktail. Before either of their brains could slow them down with any logical considerations, belts had been undone, flies unzipped, and the female sniper’s trousers were shucked down to the knee on one leg, and off the other entirely.They shuffled together against the dark tunnel wall. Her leg hooked him closer, racing to get what she wanted from this before either of them had a chance to over think it.

Her hand stroked the smooth hot skin of his rigid prick, guiding him as he clumsily prodded to find her. He nestled the searching head against her wet warmth, then shoved in roughly. She winced against the discomfort, her intimate muscles not yet as welcoming to the intrusion as she would have liked, but she was not about to ask him to slow down. Anyone could wander through at any moment. What a horrid thought. One that was quickly drown out by the feel of his thrusts becoming slicker, working her inner resistance into compliance. Each pump both satisfying her, and intensifying an urge for the next to fill her more completely, sending her bucking desperately against him.

They restrained the sounds of their pleasure. No moaning, only laboured breaths and hisses through gritted teeth. Her face was so hot with blood, she almost felt faint. He was hard as iron. She could feel that she was tight on him too. The doc was right, it _had_ been a long while for her.

His head lolled back as he thrust, an appreciative, gravely hum communicated that her body was feeling as good to him as his was to her. She bit at the neck he had exposed to her. His hand grasped her hair and redirected her into a kiss, scuffing her with his stubble as they roughly found each other in the dark.

He felt aggressive, and dangerous, and hungry. That, combined with the raw physical friction between them, threw her easily toward an early orgasm. She drew away from his kiss with a gasp and squeaked at the start of a strangled breath that would have been a full on scream if their circumstance had allowed. She dug her nails into him, clawing him closer as his body treated her to the best deluge of euphoric feelings she had felt in years. A few more stifled sounds escaped her as she shuddered through it.

He could feel and hear what he had accomplished and it seemed to inspire him, because he soon followed. He arched and crushed her against the wall, driving deeper a few more times, then retreated just in time to spare them any risk, spilling down her leg. Neither of them had lasted very long.

His breath was hot and heavy on on her neck. They panted and shook weakly against each other, not daring to move, trying desperately to cling to the ebbing feelings of climax and stave off thinking about how to gracefully dismount this bizarre encounter.

She lowered her leg from him and he lifted his head from where it had slumped onto her shoulder. They breathed heavily, staring blindly at each other’s silhouettes in the dark. Then, the situation they had both been dreading shattered their moment.

Voices, gunfire, and the thud of boots, echoed down the tunnel.

The two sprang away from each other and scrambled to assemble themselves. She scraped her palm up her leg to gather what she hoped was all of his emission and flung it off with a snap of her wrist. Pants were yanked up, zippers zipped, weapons tripped over, then sloppily holstered, and the two dashed in opposite directions like a pair of startled deer.


	3. Is that what we're doing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> relationship development stuff between the two as they meet in a cave for fun-times and things do not go according to plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if it bothers you that I sometimes capitalize RED and BLU and other times write it Red and Blu.
> 
> My logic is, if they are referring to a whole team, I do ALL CAPS, but if they are using it as a nickname, since they don't know each other's real names yet, I write it like Red and Blu. But let me know in the comments if it is distracting and I should just always do RED and BLU all caps.

BLU’s sniper went through the motions of his post battle routine, his mind disconnected from his actions and whirling with questions. _What the hell was that? How did this happen? What do we do now? Why_ _the hell did I_ _shag_ _a crazy cunt_ _who shot my bits off? Shouldn’t I hate her? Should I give her the satisfaction of showing up for her_ _bloody_ _‘shag’ appointment?_ _What if it’s all a trap?_ _Do I really need another shag that badly?_

He knew the answer to the last one was no. His obsession with the purposed meeting tonight had a new focus. The damn fool in him wanted to talk to her. To make sense of what was happening between them so he could stop agonizing over it. He could imagine no outcome in which they left things cut off as sharply as they had after their two, very strange encounters.

He paced the small space of his trailer, casting glances at the map. If BLU found out he had gone for a secret meeting with the enemy, Miss Pauling would likely be picking out a nice cave for his shallow grave, and he would have no one to blame but himself.

He wrestled with the decision to go through every tick of the clock, until the hour to leave had arrived. But, as many bullet points as the more logical side of him could accumulate, supporting the argument to himself that pursuing this any further was a bad idea, a tenacious curiosity continued to overrule them all. He wanted to see her again.

His rifle and a few supplies jostled quietly against his back as he stalked through the dimly starlit canyon. He leveled his scope to scan the destination before approaching. Any tunnel or structure could hide an ambush. He froze on a dark shape that could well be a human figure. The figure moved, and he found himself staring down the scope of a familiar silhouette.

No re-spawn. The pit of his stomach dropped at the thought. But she lowered her weapon, and so he mirrored her. The two cautiously crept the edge of the open space toward a midpoint.

“We’re in the bloody open!” He hissed, looking back across the nearly-clear line of sight to his base.

“We’re not staying here,” she whispered, motioning for him to follow, “Just needed to see you were alone.”

She lead them along the canyon wall. A ravine split the stone into a passage that curved to reveal a small cave. She paused at the mouth of the cavern and looked back for him. With the base and field tucked behind the wall of rock, he lit his lantern and confronted her at last.

“Alright, I have questions. I’ve had a hell of alot on my mind today, thanks to you, _miss_. I need to know what all this is.”

“What all this--?”

“This! _This!”_ He gestured around wildly, indicating the whole situation. His questions flooded out with agitation, “ _Why_ _was I in your base? Why_ _did we talk? Why were we on drugs?_ Why did you let me go?! What the hell is the end game here?!”

“You...you still think this is RED doing this?”

“Yes! Because the alternative is ludicrous! The alternative is, you kidnapped me. Just you. For your own reasons. Just so you could invite me to...to meet you in a cave and...” He looked around, fearing his increasing volume might give them away.

“Shag.” She finished for him.

He dropped his voice to a growl, “and you expect me to believe that?!”

A silence settled while she struggled to think of a way to convince him. She agreed the whole thing was ludicrous. “No. I suppose not.” she sighed, at a loss. Then decided to turn it on him. “So what do you think the RED _master plan_ is?”

“I dunno...” He deflated slightly from his accusatory tone. “Tryn’ to...give me a soft spot...or something.”

“A ‘soft spot?’” She knew a joke might be in poor taste, but she hoped it might turn the mood around, “Well, good news there _B_ _lu_ , I think I’ve been having the _opposite_ effect.”

He brushed her attempt to tease aside without acknowledgement. “Well, _Red_ , I wouldn’t expect you to confirm any of it anyway.”

“Well, if you ain’t gonna believe me anyway, no point in asking, _eh_?” This earned her a frustrated huff.

A silence settled. The female sniper decided to try to move them on from this failed interrogation. “Shall we?” She gestured, waving him in.

He did not budge. “I ain’t goin’ in first.”

She looked to the cave, then back to him confused. “You’re the one with the lantern.”

“You’re the one who has to prove there isn’t a RED in there with a garrote waiting for me.”

“You seriously think...wait, what’s that on your back?” she asked, referring to a bundle slung next to his gun. It looked like a tightly furled bed roll “Did you bring a _fuck mat_?” she giggled.

“Oh, I’m sorry, love,” he defended, his tone thick with sarcasm, “Didjya wanna root in the dirt like bloody animals?”

“Didn’t realize you were such a princess Blu.”

“Right,” He jerked his head at the cave, and held his lantern ahead of her, illuminating the threshold. She sighed and entered.

He followed cautiously into the vulnerability of the enclosed space. No trap was sprung. It truly was a meeting of just the two of them for just this purpose. He absorbed this reality with gratitude for a few uneventful seconds, after which his attention turned to scrutinizing the venue she had chosen for their given purpose.

“You serious?” He asked, casting his lantern around the corners of the earthen room.

“I’m not hot on the idea either.” she admitted, “Give me credit, had to be neutral territory and secluded, and it is...What on earth are you looking for?”

“Scorpions. Spiders. Snakes.” He responded flatly.

She knew those things were a possibility, but she had tried not to think of it.

The time was now. But the mood was far from set. Their tryst on the battle field had been such a fervent affair. Everything just, _happened_. But, now here they stood, fresh off an argument. Neither of them sure how to proceed.

“Suppose you should,” she began, “roll out the _‘fuck mat.’_ ”

He sighed at her continuing to tease him about it, as he lifted the strap from over his shoulder. He unstrapped it and snapped it out to land flat on the floor. They looked at it a moment. The idea of simply laying down and starting felt wrong. They should kiss or something, she thought, and work their way to it.

She looked at him. He returned her gaze, his face mostly in darkness as the lantern hung down at his side in his hand. She could not read him. She leaned closer to initiate, but he interrupted.

“I’m honestly not in the mood for it yet, love.”

“Me either,” she admitted, retreating.

“I’m not done sorting this...if it ain’t your team putting you up to this, did you _seriously_ send that psycho out to roofie me for you?”  
  
“I didn’t ask him to! I made the mistake of...mentioning you.”

Silence. He seemed to be listening, so she continued, “I just mentioned that you were...interesting to me. He sort of worked it out of me, really. He does that.” She waited for his dismissal of her explanation.

“’Interesting’?” He repeated. He did not sound entirely won over, but still seemed curious.

“You seemed...shag-gable...from a distance.”

“’Shag-gable from a distance’?” He echoed, with a turn of amusement in his tone. She timidly shrugged, not sure how to further expound on the statement. “Do I hold up at close range?” He lifted the lantern to his face and smirked a little. She saw a hint of the good humored man who had shared a fit of giggles with her on the exam table.

“Yeah,” she said shyly, then turned to a more brazen tone, “Wouldn’t have nailed you in the tunnel if not.”

“‘Nailed’ _me?_ ” He laughed, “I don’t think that’s how it works, love.”

“Fine. I would not have, _allowed_ you the _privilege_ of _nailing me_ in the tunnel...See? It sounds horrible that way.”

He felt the knot in his belly about this whole meeting start to uncoil at last. He had meant to interrogate her, but here he was distracted into flirting already. A voice of reason, still insisting he had no proof she was not some sort of bait in a long con, was growing faint and sinking beneath a sea of curious feelings again. He felt like their conversation from the exam table had just somehow continued.

‘ _You know something? I’m usually shite at this. It’s rather easy talkin’ to you, miss.’_

But, this time, there were no drugs. For him, she was simply enjoyable to talk to. And so refreshingly forward. And also, she had nailed him...or let him nail her, so there was that.

“Are we even doing this?” She asked with a tone that expected a ‘no’.

He had not decided, _not_ to do it. Some part of him had had the foresight to grab the mat, which meant some part of him intended to follow through. He had had a tantalizing taste of her earlier today, and he would be lying to say that dumb, simple part of him did not want another. He hummed thoughtfully with another glance at the mat. “Let’s have a sit and see where it goes.” he said, lowering to set the lantern on the cave floor.

Where it went was, a few sheepish scooches closer, a few awkward re arrangements of limbs, and finally, a kiss. A slow kiss. Exactly the kind of kiss they needed to turn the key in the ignition at last.

She turned and crawled to straddle his lap, cupping the coarse skin of his neck and jaw. The gravely, satisfied hum he responded with, spurred her into deeper, more impassioned kisses. Before long, she had him horizontal.

Thank god for the ‘fuck mat’, but it was still only a thin layer on a hard floor. He folded an arm behind his head as a pillow, to see her as she pulled the end of his belt to loosen the buckle, but it did not help much. Now she was unzipping his jeans with a devious glance at him. Her hand slipped in and found him, and... _oh no_.

“Sorry love,” he grasped her wrist and pulled her gently toward himself, away from the half masted member she’d found, “just a bit...uncomfortable. The floor and...I was thinking too much.”

She looked at him quizzically. He pulled her into a kiss, hoping it would light the fire again. She understood his intent and dove into the kiss passionately. Her hands hungrily explored his chest and neck, and combed through his hair. She nipped at his lip and added little hums. _That’d do the trick,_ he thought, as a promising hint of arousal fluttered southward through him. His hands drifted gently over her softer, smaller frame. Then suddenly, she froze.

“Oi, Blu,” she addressed him, needing a name for him and still having none. Her eyes were wide. “I feel something...on my leg.”

He was pretty sure by her shocked expression, she was not referring to his anatomy, that was finally gaining some confidence. He shuffled partially out from under her and looked over her back. A little black something was skittering up her ankle.

“Scorpion.”

She gasped and tensed visibly, but forced herself still as not to agitate the thing.

“Do they sting?” She asked with nearly held breath.

“Course they do.” He answered. She tensed further with a squeak. He carefully scooted the rest of the way out from under her and sat up to address the intruder.

He reached carefully behind it and pinched the little monster’s tail between his fingers to lift it off her. “You afraid of bugs, Red?”

“Not most of ‘em. Just ones with giant stingers and claws.” She rolled over and eyed the wriggling thing with discomfort.

“He’s not that big,” he teased, bringing it up nearer her face than she would have liked.

“Get rid of it!” She kicked him as she squirmed away.

“Who’s the princess now?” he laughed, and chucked it out of the entrance of the cave.

“Great, now it’s angry and it’ll probably come back,” she said, curling into a ball, “You should have crushed it.”

“Hey, we’re in his house. That ain’t polite.” He said snuggling back onto the mat with her. He wrapped an arm around her tightly furled figure and pulled her close. She buried her face against his chest. Still peeved with him, but also wanting to feel unexposed to the unknowns of the cave and covered by his body as much as possible.

“You’re probably right though...” he said with a devious grin. He began to crawl his fingers like spider legs in the air behind her back, “he probably will come back.” He let his finger tips tickle against her lower back. She squeaked and jolted, her spine straight as a board, then realized she had been pranked a moment later and deflated as he laughed openly.

“Are you twelve years old?” She attempted to scold him, but caught a bit of his laughter. “This is a terrible second date.” She buried her face in a hand, defeated.

“Is that what we are doing? Are you counting our row on the field, as our first? Considering you didn’t shoot my bits off this time, I’d say this is an improvement.”

“Got your attention didn’t it?” she grinned.

He did not respond awhile, apparently not fully over it. “There’s better ways to get a man’s attention you know.”

She held up the hand he had shot at the start of their exchange that day, “You started it, mate.” He did not answer, but looked grumpily away. “Listen,” She turned his face back with her hand, “I don’t like how nasty things got. I’m sorry.” She traced the scar on his cheek with her thumb curiously, “I’ll only shoot your handsome face off from now on. I promise.”

He sighed, absorbing her apology awhile before a hint of a smile returned to his face.

“I don’t know how much you remember,” she said, “from the first time we met...You said ‘we could do other things too’.” She watched his eyes searching as he dredged up the foggy memory. “It sounded like,” she found herself growing shy at digging into this sort of conversation, “you maybe wanted to...date or something? Something other than just...meet in a dark corner for a quickie.”

“I mean,” she added quickly, growing nervous, “I know you were sloshed. I was too. If you didn’t really mean it, no worries mate.”

He felt split in two. A professional him that insisted he was already far too involved in this ‘mistake,’ and a silly, smitten 16 year old him, that just wanted to spend hours chatting and rolling around with this woman.

“I did,” he looked sincerely into her eyes. “I did mean it. You seem...” He looked away, feeling words always failed him in situations like this. “I don’t know. I’d wanna take you places, sure. If there were anything to do around this dust bin. And if we weren’t hired to blast each other’s brains out. Sure.”

‘ _Sure’?_ he berated himself internally for ending on such a weak note. But she seemed satisfied with his answer, as she glowed with a sheepish smile.

* * *

The main event of the night, it seemed, was ruined. As inviting as the warmth of his body was, the floor was still stone, and the cave still contained scorpions and who knew what else. She groaned, “I just wish we could do this in a proper bed.”

He immediately thought of his own bed. The two of them, comfortably swaddled in soft blankets, warm and naked together after the good hot session the scorpion and cave floor had robbed them of.

What was the exact risk of bringing one of the enemy home? His location must not have been secret, or the RED medic would not have so easily abducted him while he stood smoking on his own lawn (or patch of desert, as it were), so not much further damage could be done in sharing his coordinates with her. The greater risk was his own team finding out about his forbidden visitor.

“Hows about mine?” He let the offer fall out his mouth while still assessing what a bad idea it was. The same way he had barreled ahead with every bad idea this woman had inspired in him so far.

“That’s in BLU territory, though,” she replied.

“Well then, you’ll have to be extra careful not to be seen, wont you?” He said. “That’s best for both of us. And,” he added, at her pouting expression, “Seems fair. I already made a trip to your side.”

“Involuntarily,” she corrected.

“It was still a risk for me,” he insisted. “Now I’m going to get off this floor before my back is ruined for the week,” he said, as he struggled up to a seated position, leaving her curled and alone. “And I hope to see you tomorrow. At mine.” She rose to sit next to him and snuggled against his warmth again. “And don’t go easy on me on the field. They’ll suspect.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” She cooed and kissed his cheek. This kiss lingered in a way that begged another. He met her lips with his and they lost themselves awhile.

The date was set. Another note with coordinates was given. The two crept back to their respective sides, giddy with their new, dirty little secret.


	4. Meeting at his place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RED (female) Sniper sneaks into BLU territory to meet her BLU Sniper boy at his place. And sexy stuff happens, of course.

Her heart pounded as the steps of a soldier thudded his patrol along the boards above her head. She had waded thigh deep into the frigged waters and now stood as still as the posts surrounding her that supported the bridge.

\--

Mundy stood as his nerves got the better of him, chancing another peek out the window. The sentries chirped softly in the distance. No movement yet. She was much later than he had expected.

The sniper slumped into his sofa, re assuring himself that if she had been caught, or even seen, he would have heard something. A shot, or shouting, at least. The silence was as re-assuring as it was anxiety inducing.

Finally, a soft tapping at his door jolted him to his feet.

He left the camper lights off, as not reveal that the van contained the silhouettes of two occupants tonight. The moment his door had shut behind her, she was upon him in the dark. She grasped the fabric of his shirt and kissed him with a desperate intensity. She had endured the gut wrenching threat of a re-spawn-less death hanging over her at every turn for this.

He smiled with a soft laugh, “Hmm, someone’s happy to see me.”

She was. But, the night of creeping, crouching, hiding and dashing through structures and past the sentries of the enemy base had left her in a mood. “You had better storm the bloody castle _for me_ next time.”

“Oh, really?” He smoothed her hair with a hand and spoke in a low husky tone he hoped would sooth her temper, “You have a tough go getting here, love?”

She grabbed his wrist and directed his hand to her soaked trouser thigh pointedly.

“Wha--?! Oh! You took a dip didn’t you?” he laughed, surprised. His hand wandered her curiously a moment.

“Yes. I did.” She said flatly. She suddenly stepped away from him and flung herself down on his sofa as she unbuttoned and peeled off the freezing wet garment that had clung uncomfortably to her for the last miserable leg of her journey.

He took the place beside her on the tiny fold-away couch and trailed his palm up the shivering goose flesh of her exposed leg. Moonlight fell between the blinds as blue slashes across the room. He could just see that she wore something black, and possibly a little lacy.

He turned and reached up to snatch a wool blanket from his bed. He pulled the cloth so that is spread the both of them, then pulled her onto his lap, bringing her against the warmth of his body. She cuddled against his chest and curled tightly, grasping her bare, numb toes in her hands. He hugged her close with one arm and rubbed the blanket for friction-warmth against her with the other.

“So you want me to, ‘storm the castle’ for you next time?” he said in a low gentle tone near her ear.

She knew the request was probably outrageous. She had thrown it out in frustration, and had not fully meant it. “I dunno, could you? Do you really think you could, you know, get _into_ our base?” She had had enough trouble just getting to his camper on BLU-held land. She could not imagine how she would have gone about getting _into_ the BLU base proper.

Truthfully, he knew such a feat was nearly suicidal. But her question felt like an invitation to a challenge, that brought the prowess of their respective teams into question. “Past _your_ team?" He said, "No problem.” She raised her head from its cozy place against him to look him in the eye and gauge his seriousness. He grinned smugly. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She sensed he was teasing, but the comment stoked a competitive fire in her all the same.

He smirked, “hmm?”

“ _What are you saying?_ ” She laughed, grabbing the collar of his shirt and twisted as if to choke him in a mock-threat. His smirk only intensified until he broke into a short laugh.

“Easy! Easy, love.” There was something intriguing about her energy in this flirtatious game of team trash talking. He could not help but antagonize her. “I just meant that REDs, well...aren’t always the most aware of their surroundings...” He looked away as if not to notice the RED right in front of him as he cast the insult out.

“Is that so?” She asked, her eyes narrowing.

“They have a habit of standing still...” his eyes wandered back to enjoy her annoyance.

“Do we?” She tightened her collar noose. Her danger thrilled him like the anticipation of lighting a firework.

“And loosin’ their heads,” he growled with a grin, knowing he would strike a nerve.  
  
“How dare you!” She squirmed free of his embrace and straddled him on her knees, leering down at him from above. He chuckled deviously, enjoying the trouble he had started.

“You’re lucky...” she began kissing his neck with little toothy nips between her words, “you’re so handsome...and..that I left my blade at the door.” She drew a sharp line across his neck with her fingernail.

“Ah, you wouldn’t, would you, love?” he asked, clasping his larger hand over hers. She tugged to free herself but he held fast. After a few more playful attempts to tug her hand free, she caved to the temptation of his charming grin and kissed him, slowly and softly.

“No.” She said, resting her forehead against his with a sigh at last. “Suppose I wouldn’t.” He released her hand and they looked at each other awhile as all pretense and play seemed to drop.

“Don’t try to sneak in to see me,” she broke the silence to say with absolute sincerity. “I don’t want you to die.”

He drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. He nodded. “I’ll be honest. I was a wreck wondering when you’d show up tonight...if you’d show up...or if you wouldn’t, and it would be my fault.”

His expression of concern warmed her. He watched a smile flicker across her face a brief moment. She brushed her finger through his hair affectionately. “This thing we’re doing...is going to be hard.” She said solemnly.

He hated how sad she looked now. “Hey, we made it this far,” he said in a lighter tone, “Look at us, you’re here,” his warm hands traveled up her thighs to hold at her back. “We’re pretty good at this. We’ll be fine. We just got to--” his pep talk was interrupted by her kissing him, “make the most of it,” he finished.

She looked a little relieved, but the mood still felt too serious for the night he was hoping to share with her. “You know one more thing about REDs?” He said, attempting again to shake off the weight of discussing their complex relationship arrangements. She cocked her head quizzically and squinted. “ _They’re dead easy to capture!_ ” He suddenly scooped her close and stood. She squeaked and giggled in surprise and tightened her arms and legs around him as not to fall.

He hoisted the both of them the short distance up onto his bed and collapsed ungracefully on top of her, causing a burst of laughter from the both of them. He clumsily re-situated himself over her in a more dignified manner.

He pinned her wrists above her head. “I’ve got you now!” he said triumphantly, as he panted to recover from his laughter and efforts.

“So you have. Well done.” She said with a wry smile. “You’ll have a medal for this I’m sure.”

Her legs were still around him. “Unless...” She said as she pulled him flush against her with her calves, “it was all a trap and I have _you_.”

He looked down at her thighs around him, and the lace garment that had caught his eye earlier. “Tricky. A tricky situation I find myself in, indeed.” He bantered on as she began to laugh, “I should have seen this sort of shifty scheme coming from you, _Red_.”

“The trouble is,” He leaned in close as if to tell a secret in her ear, “for the both of us, really--I’m still wearing my trousers.” She snickered and tugged her wrists against his hold, intending to remedy the situation, but he held her still. “...And my hands are busy, holding your hands...and your hands are tied...” He sighed, contemplating the situation. “I’ll make a deal with you Red,” he said.

She gave one last struggle against his hold before settling to hear his proposal. He kissed her neck with a satisfied grin, enjoying having the upper hand. “If I let you go, you promise to remove these trousers, no funny business? No tricks!”

“What sort of tricks would I--?!” She interrupted, laughing.

“You could have my head off! I dunno what’s up your sleeve miss. This is very risky business, asking a RED for help.”

“Right, right, what’s the deal then?”  
  
“The deal is...” He rolled to one side, shifting his weight to one elbow, “you take care of this...” He guided her hand slowly down his chest, toward his belt holding mock suspicious eye contact, as if he were sure she could pull a sidearm on him with any sudden move. He paused. Her fingers traced the top of the leather that looped through his buckle in anticipation.

He dropped into his best, smokey voice near her ear, “And I’ll fuck you senseless.” He heard her breath hitch and felt her body tense against him with a thrill at his sudden shift from playfulness.

He released her hands and she went to work immediately. He smirked, watching her, amused at her intensity. The belt clattered open below but he held his gaze on her face. He released her other hand and in seconds she had wrestled out of her shirt and began pulling his up as well.

\--

They savored every detail. No frenzied rush to the finish this time. A delicious, tortuously, slow rhythm. He reveled in her soft warmth, grasping and kneading at him below, expressing his ecstasy with low passionate groans. Her hands explored his chest and back, then swept the sweat from his brow and curled into claws that slowly raked through his hair as he worked. She rocked with him, angling for more depth, her soft moans and whimpers hinting to him when he had struck an especially good spot.

The sounds of each other’s pleasure coaxed them into a gallop for a moment—that was sharply ruined by the feel of the entire camper rocking with them. They paused, both wide eyed with realization, then laughed. “Looks like we’ll have to keep it under control,” he commented, somewhat embarrassed.

She sighed. “Even here? Just can’t catch a break can we?”

“Better than the cave I hope?” He said, his voice breathy as he slowly and carefully recommenced their rhythm from before.

“Anything’s better than the cave.” She breathed, the forced, slow, controlled movement even more agonizing to maintain than before. “How are we going to do this though? Don’t think I’ll get off at this speed.”

He stopped, his eyes flicked around thoughtfully. She gasped as he extracted himself from her and suddenly moved down, encouraging her to shift up the bed with his hands. She struggled her way up the mattress to give him space. “What about you though?” She asked, gasping and falling back into the sheets as he began to treat her with his tongue, and filled her with two warm, curled fingers.

He rose briefly to answer. “You dodged death and fell in a bloody river for me tonight. I can wait.”

\--

She could not help but buck her hips against him as she twisted and writhed in her rapture. The rising, uncontrolled pitch of her moans teased the promise of a spectacular end. His free hand clasped over her mouth in warning, yanking her back to the reality that she was still trying to avoid detection in enemy territory. He released her face as she returned to restrained, desperate whimpers that would not carry as far.

His hand continued down to sooth the aching needs of his own body. Watching him work at himself, coupled with his relentless thrusting of his hand and the work of his mouth at her nub, sent her into the final throws of it all. She arched back, tensing powerfully against his hand, and moaned into the pillow she just managed to pull across her mouth in time. She shivered and wailed, curling in on herself, as the carnal energy engulfed her.

After a few breaths of recovery in her own little world, she opened her eyes to find her partner looking proudly over her. “Sounded like a good one.” he commented with a self-satisfied smirk.

She smiled and beckoned him closer. He crawled up the bed and they entwined against one another in a sweaty, hot, tangled, panting mess. “Well, technically you didn’t ‘fuck me senseless’, as per our deal, but I’ll take it. You did a good job Blu.”

“It’s Mick.” He said. She looked at him suddenly, surprised, but he did not return her attempted eye contact. Sharing his name was no insignificant decision. But he seemed to be avoiding dwelling on the importance of it, shyly looking everywhere but at her. He busied himself readjusting for a more comfortable cuddle.

“Mick?” She asked.  
  
“Hmm?” He said absently. He seemed focused now on combing her hair out of her eyes with his fingers.

“Mick, as in, Mickey?” She pressed on. “Like the mouse?”

He laughed, stretching his back and settling with his arms folded behind his head. “Sure. Like the mouse.”

“Is that...real? Are you telling me your real name?”  
  
“Why? What’s wrong with it?” He said to the ceiling. She did not answer, so he turned to look at her at last, to interpret her silence.

“Nothing.” She moved to lay snugly against his side. “Thanks for telling me is all.”

There were members of his own team he did not trust enough to share personal information with. His nightmare had come true in the past: the threat of his enemies finding him, or worse yet, his family, outside the context of his work. She still had no last name on him. And no way of verifying the name he had given. But he still always approached this sort of thing with caution.

His anxious, post-mortem dissection of his decision to share his name with her was interrupted by her hand softly appreciating the grooves of his torso, then neck, then face. She turned his face toward her with her hand. “You alright?” She asked.

“Just thinking too much.” He answered honestly.

“Well, I know a cure for that.” She tapped his nose with a fingertip. She began slinking down the bed to return the favor with an impish smile. He chuckled softly at her implication.

He could see thoughts playing through her searching eyes as her hand gently began to encourage his soft, warm, member back into the right mood for such things. “I kinda like when you call me Red...” she said, avoiding his gaze in the same way he had hers. “But, it’s Jess. If you want.”

He cupped her chin in his hand and turned her to face him. “Jess?” he repeated. She smiled shyly up at him, but seemed to find discomfort in the sappiness of the moment and suddenly turned to suckle sensually at the end of his thumb, her tongue lapping little circles around the tip.

“Mhmm,” she answered, the vibration of her hum tickling his nerves in a way that started him bucking his hips against her hand without even realizing. He inhaled deeply as his heart began to race, happy to be carried away from his overthinking tendencies by her attention.

\--

Her eyes were arrestingly round and gorgeous from this angle each time they flicked up to his. She savored his increased reactions as she worked her way down until she had all of him. Loving his small gasps of surprise and whispered curses as she added layers to his pleasure. Stroking him with a hand just below where her mouth worked, then cupping and caressing him with the other hand as she stroked, then swirling her tongue at the tip with each rise off before rolling her lips over her teeth and plunging down again.

His hands wandered and grasped at her. He held her hair aside in a fist and fought the nagging urge to force her onto him with his grip. “You’re killing me, love.” He breathed. she hummed a positive response into him. His toes curled and fingers clenched as he shuddered and moaned. Inspired by his response, she hummed again, an impassioned note that expressed how much she enjoyed the treat she was devouring.

This seemed to be more than he could handle. He suddenly curled in on himself, his grip in her hair became painful as he groaned out his loss of control and she tasted him at the back of her throat. She swallowed and carefully withdrew from his now sensitive cock.

He released her as soon as the moment had passed and brushed his hand apologetically over the hair he had gripped. “Sorry, love, sorry.” She crawled up to lay against his hot, heaving side as he recovered. His forcefull moment had not been too bad, in fact, she had enjoyed his intensity, despite the bit of discomfort. But she took the opportunity to give him a hard time all the same.

She drew her fingernail across his neck, symbolizing her blade as she had done before. “Lucky.” she repeated.

“Ah, you wouldn’t.” He joined in the banter with waning energy, the sleepy, post-orgasmic haze beginning to set in.

“I dunno Mick.” She cooed near his ear. “What did you think would happen? Inviting a RED into your bed?” She drew her fake cut line across his throat again.

“Invited? That’s not how I remembered it.” He grasped her offending hand again.

“No? Was I not?”  
  
“Nah, as I recall it, I outwitted a RED, threw her into my bed and ravaged her.”

“Sure. Whatever you need to tell yourself.” She said as she tugged half-halfheartedly against his hold.

“How about there’s no RED and BLU in here, eh? Just Mick and Jess.” He released her hand. "What d'ya think?"  
  
She looked at him absorbing this sweet sentiment without answering awhile. It was too sweet. Sickly sweet.

“I think..." She shied away from matching his sincerity, "you’re an idealistic idiot, and a sap, and I’ll kill you in your sleep Blu.” She tucked her head in the crook of his neck and curled an arm and leg across him.

“Fair enough.” he yawned, languidly draping an arm over her.

They drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading four whole chapters of my Sniper smut. I appreciate you reading my stuff! I always feel strange about giving my tf2 OCs names instead of just a class, but I felt like she needed to share hers if he shared his. IDK, I'd love to hear your thoughts on it.
> 
> I have a few more ideas for these guys, but I am doing this very casually, so again, may be awhile before an update. So for now, consider it complete, with possible additions if/when they come to me.


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